Treats
by Eelisa America
Summary: House and Chase both develope fuzzy feelings for Cameron. Chapter 7 is up.
1. Chapter 1

Titles: Treats

Rating: T (PG-13ish)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. But if I _did _own the hotness that is Greg House... oh dear...

Author's Note: I'm a huge fan of revision, so feel free to add reviews and suggestions.

His legs were crossed and lifted onto his desk. He held his arms mid-air, twisting his wrists in response to the flashing images on the gameboy. He threw the system down in frustration.

"Didn't quite make to the top ten?" Chase asked as he sat down on the chair in from of House's desk. Foremen entered the office. a few seconds after the him. The three men silently regarded each other.

Foremen looked around, his brow lowered. "…Where's Cameron?"

Grabbing his cane from beside his chair, House made his way to a stance. "Oh you know, she was probably up late with the girlfriends. Lost track of time."

The glass doors to the office swung open. Her hair, spread across her shoulders and plastered to her face, was damp and tangled.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Cameron managed, her chest heaving in attempt to catch her breath.

House's eyes brushed up and down her figure before he limped in front of his desk to address his team.

"Dr. Cameron how nice of you to show up." House's glance slid down from her eyes. "And I see you've brought guests."

Cameron clenched her jaw and quickly brought her white lab coat over her translucent white blouse. Chase cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised suggestively. House continued without missing a beat.

"We haven't had a major case in two days. And seeing how Cuddy has mapped out all my favorite hiding spots -"

"You actually have to work in clinic," Foremen finished.

"Hey!" House exclaimed. "Maybe you could scrape the streets for some bleeding gunshot victims." Cameron sighed wearily, taking a seat next to Chase.

"We could inject him with all kinds of fun stuff," House continued. "He'll look like a promising case in no time."

"There's actually a pretty long line of patients in the lobby," Chase said. "Maybe there's someone sick enough out there to entertain you for the day."

House moaned childishly. "Well it's no fun unless the nice ambulance men bring them in."

Cameron brought her hair into a ponytail, careful to keep her coat closed with one hand. "Why exactly are we here then?"

"I just thought we could use some time to bond. Maybe paint each other's toenails." House twisted to grab three manila folders from his desk. "I brought treats." He handed one folder to each of the doctors.

Chase leafed through the pages.

"Old cases?" Chase asked.

"New cases. Your cases. Figure them out. First person to correctly diagnose the given patient wins a prize."


	2. Chapter 2

"What's wrong with your guy?" Foremen asked. He threw the blue stress ball in the air with one hand and caught it with the other.

"Spontaneous bleeding of the anus," Chase replied.

Cameron smiled. "You are clearly House's favorite."

"What about you, Foremen? What's yours?"

Foremen tossed to ball to Chase who barely caught it.

"Old lady with a bad cough."

Cameron took a sip of her third cup coffee. She winced at the bitter taste. The three doctors had gathered to the round table at seven o'clock, each examining the files with a manila folder. The clock struck nine.

Chase yawned. "This is pointless. We can't even perform any scans." He pushed his chair from the table in disgust. "How are we supposed to figure these things out when all we have are some clips of fiction."

"Somebody needs a nap," House whined as he walked through the opened door.

Foreman chuckled, stretching his arms to the ceiling.

"Actually doesn't sound like a bad idea," he said. "How 'bout it, Doc? A good night's rest?"

House brought his free hand to his chin in a dramatic pondering pose. "Well, I suppose."

Cameron restlessly paged through her folder. "Damn. I think I left a chart in the lab?"

"What were you doing in the lab," Chase asked.

"Being as realistic as possible I guess. I work better when I'm there." She gathered the remaining papers. "I'll grab them on my way out."

"Wow. She's really taking this thing seriously," Foreman said as she left the room.

House sighed. "Do you think she'd cry if I made her patient die?"

Chase noticed a group of keys resting on the table where Cameron had been. "Her keys. She forgot them," he said. He shrugged, grabbed the keys, and hurried out of the room in pursuit.

"Delivery boy to the rescue," Foreman snickered, flipping down the collar of his own coat. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he left.

House turned off the lights and locked the door to the lounge. He had wanted to speak to Cameron again ever since their date last week. He might be able to catch her.

* * *

Chase cupped her chin within his hand and brought her face to his. Her lips were soft and pliant underneath his. His other hand reached behind her hand and pulled her hair free. Chase pulled back to admire her. 

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

Cameron silently leaned forward and continued their kiss. Her hands staid at her sides, but Chase's roamed to her shoulder and pushed off her lab coat, letting it float to the ground. His body pushed against hers until her hips were against the examination table. His lips lowered to her neck. His fingers traveled up her shirt until the met the cool, smooth skin of her lower back. Cameron swallowed and closed her eyes, purposefully pushing all thoughts from her mind. Chase took hold of Cameron's hips and pulled them against his.

Suddenly aware of what was happening, Cameron quickly brought her hands to Chase's chest and pushed him away.

"What am I doing?" she asked, gathering her lab coat from the cold floor. "What am I thinking?" She hurried to the glass door just as House stepped in.

"Watch it, cripple crossing," House quipped. House suddenly noticed Cameron's loose hair and her lack of either lab or outside coat.

"Dr. Cameron, you should really wear your lab coat at all times when in the hospital," he said softly, looking between the two young doctors. "We can't all be cool rebels like me."


	3. Chapter 3

Chase couldn't help but gaze at Cameron while she worked on her laptop. Last night was a surprise for them both. One moment he was handing over her keys and the next her mouth was on his.

Finally, Chase broke the silence. "Are we just not going to speak about this?"

Cameron didn't look up from the computer screen. "That's the plan."

Chase sighed, leaning back in chair. "Well, whatever that was… it was nice."

"I'm sure it was."

"And you're seriously not going to talk about it?"

"…"

"Okay, then." Chase stood up and traveled to the coffee pot. "Want any?"

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself," he muttered as he poured himself a cup of cooled coffee.

The glass lounge doors creaked open and House emerged. He carried a small, dark suitcase in one hand and clutched to his customary cane with the other. Chase took sudden interest in the bits of dried cream that had collected on the side of his coffee mug. Cameron had yet to tear her eyes away from her work. House began to speak but decided against it. Instead, he simply wondered to the doors to his own separate office.

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all."

Cameron sighed and slid her glasses from her nose and onto the table. "Actually, I will take some of that coffee."

"Oh, look at that," Chase said as he filled his mug to the brim. "It seems as if someone just drank the rest of the coffee."

Cameron smiled. "You're an ass." She tucked a piece of her silken hair behind her ear and looked out through the large bay window. The sun softly rose from the cityscape, casting smooth shadows across the office. Chase admired how the sun played with her hair and eyelashes. He suddenly realized how incredibly sappy his thoughts where getting.

Chase cleared his throat and sipped at the cup before attempting to return to the table. "What can I say? I was thirsty."

House could her Cameron's soft laughter from the room next door. He closed his eyes and willed his stomach to settle. Last night he had left the hospital in strange state of shock. He had not been able to even begin to process what he sense between Chase and Cameron. It was not until he had lain in the darkness of his bedroom that he had realized that he had felt a mixture of jealously and desire. Her flushed cheeks… her unbound hair….

He had smiled in the shadows as rolled onto his good side underneath the covers. Maybe he really had hired Cameron to get into her pants.

* * *

Author's Note: Because I have some other WIP's, this story will get update irregularily. But it is definitely not finished. 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: Hahaha! Nobody wants Chase to get any action. Your reviews are hilarious. No clues on who Cameron ends up with, but this chapter focuses on Cameron's warped friendship with House.

I'm trying to write longer chapters because... long chapters rock.

"Any luck?" House asked.

Cameron looked up from her papers, noticing her visitor for the first time. She wore a dark red blouse underneath her white lab coat. The top two buttons were still undone in response to that afternoon's sudden stuffiness throughout the hospital. House leaned on the doorframe to her office, his cerulean eyes focused intently on the crystal paperweight that rested on the edge of her desk. His jaw was covered in rough stubble, his dark hair disheveled in its usual fashion. She could sense that she was about to partake in one of House's circuitous conversations.

Cameron narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Are you spying on me, Dr. House?"

House snapped his fingers in feigned resignation. "There's just no getting past you, is there?"

"Guess not."

Cameron stood and picked up a large medical dictionary from her desk. She carried it to the bookshelf on the wall adjacent from where House leaned. House straightened slightly as she neared. He could almost taste the light vanilla of her perfume. She was close enough to feel the heat of his body – to sense his eyes slide from her face… to her neck… to…

"You are really enjoying this, aren't you?"

House's eyes snapped back up to find Cameron gazing questioningly at him.

"Come again?"

She willed herself not to smile. "These cases. You like watching us struggle, don't you?"

Relieved, House shrugged his shoulders in guilty acknowledgment. Cameron nodded; her eyes were bright with amusement. She slid the thick volume into its place among the other medical texts.

"Well, I'm glad I could be your source of amusement."

Silence settled throughout the room as the two doctors regarded each other. Cameron waited - her breath held - for House to say whatever he had come into her office to say. She saw the unfinished sentences and fragmented thoughts in his eyes. She tensed. Maybe this was something serious. House had never seemed so trapped in his own mind before.

"Is everything okay? You look like something is wro -"

"Would you like to go to lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Lunch. A meal usually eaten at midday."

"Dr. House, it's... six o'clock..."

House regarded his watch. "Right."

Silence.

"Would you like a ride home?"

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "My car's in the lot."

"Right."

"Besides, I think I'll be staying here for a while. There's this really tough case that I'm working on." She leaned in confidentially. "Big prize if I figure it out fast enough."

House nodded solemnly and Cameron's smile faded.

"But I could use a break," she added softly.

The sky had settled into a deep rich blue. The beginnings of a half moon were tucked away beneath a small cluster clouds. Cameron and House sat next to each other on the concrete step of one of the hospital entrances. House watched the wind toss tiny strands of stray hair across Cameron's lips. She took a deep breath of crisp air, waiting for something - anything - to happen. Cameron had a long list of things she wished she could say to him, but this was his moment now. She had decided that tonight she would listen.

"Are you sleeping with Chase?"

Cameron laughed. Not exactly the deep, meaningful statement she had expected after the intense silence. She briefly considered not answering the question by simply stating that it was none of his business. But that night seemed like the night for complete honesty.

"After my husband died, I wasn't sure if I could handle being close to anyone again..." House squirmed noticeably. Cameron swallowed down a wave of annoyance. Her voice was sharp. "Short answer: No. I'm not."

House turned toward her. "I'm not good with sharing. People expect you to nod and sympathize and maybe pull some amazing advice out of your ass."

Cameron stood, her arms crossed. House looked up at her, the moonlight catching his almost pleading blue eyes.

House struggled to his feet and stood next to Cameron. She could barely hear him speak. "I just don't know what you want from me."

She paused.

"I'm not so sure that I know either."

They stood in silence. House cleared his throat as he timidly took her hand in his own. Cameron smiled to herself. They both looked into the distance as their fingers intertwined.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

"A twenty-year-old white male walks into the clinic complaining of a sudden onset of swallowing difficulties and hoarseness. What do you do?"

"I collect a history of the family and of the illness."

"What do you learn?"

Cameron doesn't need to glance at the pre-prepared charts in her folder. She has them memorized cold. Her voice is steady and calculated.

"He hasn't abused his vocal chords lately – no yelling, no screaming. He doesn't smoke and hasn't been exposed to any harsh chemical fumes. He doesn't complain of bad breath in the morning, which excludes nighttime acid reflux. He has no allergies to explain the hoarseness or swallowing difficulties. No running mucus, headaches, fever, cough, or facial swelling - so no URI. He's too young to have a history of external neck irradiation. There's no family history of cancer or any other genetic illness that would explain his symptoms."

"You've collected his history. Now what?"

"I take a look at his throat."

"What do you find?"

"I find a small, firm nodule at the base of his neck. Highly palpable. But throat nodules are fairly common in people who speak professionally or even people who yelled too much when they were children. I must differentiate a benign nodule from a cancerous, solitary, thyroid nodule."

"What's his job?"

"He's still a student."

"So your patient was just a cry baby?"

"It's possible. But it could still be something else."

"What do you do next?"

"I collect a throat culture and blood count."

"What do the tests tell you?"

"His blood count is normal and his culture is clean."

House nodded gravely. "That's the only information in your little manila folder there. From here on, you're on your own."

Cameron willed herself to swallow. House continued.

"Dr. Cameron your tests are inconclusive. What do you do?"

"I perform a non-surgical fine needle biopsy."

"Good. The test aspirations are malignant. It _is_ cancer. Obviously not inherited. What does that tell you?"

"The patient could have one of many types of thyroid cancers. Papillary, follicular variant of papillary, medullary, anaplastic, thyroid lymphoma…"

Cameron's brow knitted.

"What now?"

"I need to do surgical biopsy. Subtotal thyroidectomy. I remove the 'problem' parts of the thyroid and isthmus."

This patient. These words. They were too familiar.

"Your biopsy reveals that your patient has medullary cancer. What do you do?"

"I perform a total thyroidectomy."

When she had first received this hypothetical case, she had felt a sudden twinge of sadness.

"What are the characteristics of medullary cancer, Dr. Cameron?"

"Usually, female are more likely to have it than males. Men older than 50 are the most susceptible…"

But she had foolishly written it off as coincidence.

"Hmm. We seem to have a very special patient on our hands. What else can you tell me about medullary cancer?"

"Regional metastasis occurs early in the disease, spreading to the neck lymph nodes."

"And?"

Cameron's voice wavered.

"Spread to distant organs occurs late and can be to the liver, bone, adrenal medulla… or his brain…"

The last thread of control slipped from her fingers. Her entire body shook.

Her green eyes filled with tears. She fell silent.

House couldn't bring himself to look at the broken doctor who sat before him. Why had he done this to her? What gave him the right to pry into her past and so violently bring back all the pain she had experienced as he husband died?

_Because this is how you work, Greg. You knew that when you first thought of the assignment – when you first dug up the information in hopes of pushing her away just like you've done to all the others._

But this was different from the other times. He had instantly regretted it when she had looked at him with her emerald eyes – eyes full of tears and desperate hope that he was not cruel enough to do such a thing. For the first time in his life, if he were able to go back in time and change things… he would…

He voice was soft. "Cameron -"

She leaped from her chair. Her eyes were dark and piercing. Her hair stuck to the damp streaks that ran down her cheeks.

"You…bastard…"

House gazed at her, stunned at his ability to be so cruel.

Her voice rose. "Is this fun for you?"

He was inhuman.

"Does this turn you on?" she screamed.

She broke into sobs. Her hair tumbled in front of her face like an auburn shield. Her shoulders trembled. Tear drops fell to the carpet, creating tiny dark pools beneath her.

Silence silenced settled throughout the room like a blanket of ice.

Allison Cameron finally forced her shoulders back. She brought her hands to her face and wiped her cheeks dry. She pulled her hair behind her shoulders and stared blankly into House's equally blank eyes.

"You're sick, Dr. House," she said as if diagnosing a patient. She threw the folder full of her husband's charts over the desk and into House's face. He ducked instinctively. The papers fluttered around him. "Very… very… sick."

She gathered her belongings and walked through the glass doors of House's office.

* * *

The parking lot was mostly empty. The few cars that were there belonged to staff stuck on the late shift or people without anything – or anyone – to go home to.

Cameron leaned against her car, every muscle too fatigued to function properly. Her mind was stuck in a vicious path, following her entire relationship with House. From when he first told her that she had received the job because she was "pretty"… to when he said the he did not like her…to when he took her hand into his own… to when he brought the memories of her dead husband back to haunt her…

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice broke her chain of thoughts. She looked at Chase wearily. He regarded her with a surprisingly genuine look of concern. He dropped his suitcase onto the concrete ground and walked toward her, his head lowered inquiringly.

"You're shaking all over…"

"I just need some sleep."

He attempted a light-hearted chuckle. "I'll say. You can barely stand."

Cameron turned toward the car door and retrieved her keys from her pocket. She brought the key to the lock, but her unsteady hands fumbled the keychain and it tumbled underneath the car.

"Damnit!" she cried.

Chase frowned. He bent down and handed them back to her.

"Hey, let me take you to your home. I'll give you cab fare to get back here tomorrow morning. But you shouldn't -" Chase sighed as he regarded his despondent coworker.

"You shouldn't drive like this, Allison. It's not safe."

Cameron paused and studied Chase's face. What were his intentions? Did he think that she liked him? _Did_ she like him? Could you truly like more than one person at a time? She still cared deeply for House - even that day could not change that. But what if –

She sighed, too tired to allow her mind to wander so carelessly. She focused on the situation at hand.

Eventually Cameron nodded slowly. "Okay."

Chase wrapped one arm around her side, grabbed his suitcase with the other, and led Cameron to his car. She rubbed her cheek against Chase's smooth jacket. She could feel the heat from his chest radiating onto her face. She could hear the familiar sound of a racing heart.

* * *

House did not move from his seat behind the desk. An emotion he had never experienced before tightened his chest to the point at which he could barely breathe. Regret. The potential consequences of his actions had barely registered as he prepared Cameron's folder.

He smiled bitterly as he recalled the night in which he held her hand. As he felt her soft fingers against his own, he had actually been happy that he had decided to give her the case. He had been able to enjoy that one moment of closeness while knowing that the seeds for pushing her away were already planted.

House was sick.

And he might have destroyed his only chance of being cured.

* * *

Author's notes:

Oooooh, the **angst**. It burns! I honestly don't know what has gotten into me. Less heavy stuff ahead, I promise.

Thanks for the great reviews! Keep 'em coming.

Okay, next. For future reference I like using a base plot (like the one I'm writing now) and then branching off at different points to create new stories.

For example: If I write something like

"House shoved his finger up his nose."

I have two options. I could have Cameron be grossed out or I could have Cameron find it adorable. I like to write stories based on either option.

Thus after this decision I'll have two different stories: One in which Cameron leaves the room because House was so disgusting and another one in which Cameron falls madly in love with House and his nose-picking ways.

With that said, I'll probably branch off from a decision made in the next chapter. So keep an eye out for the other version.


	6. Chapter 6

She slipped her white lab coat from her shoulders to fall to the ground. She took off her shoes and carefully placed them beside the door. Chase followed her  
with both of their cases and Cameron's wet jacket, all of which he set down alongside Cameron's shoes. He gathered her lab coat and tossed it on top of the  
pile. Cameron flinch at the feel of Chase's hand on the small of her back, but allowed herself to be lead to her couch at the edge of the living room.

Cameron sat quietly. "Thanks," she said.

Chase offered a comforting smile. "Is there anything else I could do?"

Cameron shook her head and leaned against the back of the couch. She brought her hand to her forehead and rested her elbow on the side arm.

"Water," Chase said. "I'll get you some water." He ran his fingers through his damp hair and glanced around the apartment. He walked into the kitchen and  
searched through the cupboards for a glass.

Cameron could hear the tap water from the living room. She brought her feet beneath her and sighed. He was trying to help, she knew that much. But at the  
moment, all she needed was some brandy and a warm blanket. Cameron squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn't help but see herself earlier that day. She had  
cried like an emotional… woman. She now mentally kicked herself from reacting so violently in front of House, giving him that much satisfaction. What could  
possibly drive him to do such a thing? Cameron snorted bitterly. And Wilson felt it was necessary to warn her not to break his heart. Caring for someone like  
House was as masochistic as it was hopeless.

"He's sick," she whispered to the living room.

"Dr. House?" Chase asked, returning to the living room.

He set the glass of water on the coffee table in front of her and took a seat on the other side of the couch. Neither Chase nor Cameron had bothered to turn on the main light; they simply sat under the dim glow of a small lamp beside the sofa.  
Chase watched her sip from the tall glass of water. Her hands shook, the water silently trembling against the crystal. She breathed heavily and slowly, each  
exhalation quivering with the effort to not sob. Her eyes stared directly in front of her, while her mind settled into a quiet hum of muffled thoughts. The  
rims of her eyes were red from refrained tears. Chase glanced around the room, admiring the large amount of books that rested on a hanging shelf above his head. He leaned forward and folded his hands into each other.

"I feel like I should be doing something better."

"What do you mean?"

Chase swallowed and stared at the dark green rug beneath his shoes. "As a friend I guess. To help you feel better. I've honestly never been one for  
comforting others."

Cameron set the water back down. "I can tell."

"Ouch."

"You're doing fine, Robert. I just need some sleep."

"That's probably a good idea."

"Thanks for bringing me home."

"No problem."

Cameron smiled at his pronunciation of 'problem.' Its inflection was foreign and clearly brought out his accent.

"Problem," she repeated as American-ly as possible.

"Problem," Chase said.

"No… problem… not probe-lem."

"Ever think that maybe you're pronouncing it wrong?"

Cameron lowered her eyebrows. "I'm sorry what country are we in right now?"  
Chase's laugh echoed through the living room. The atmosphere suddenly seemed warmer, more comforting. Cameron became aware of how is presence unobtrusively filled the room with a soothing air of affection. Cameron frowned and regarded her co-worker once again – this time without the reservations that had held her together since House's examination.

His golden blonde hair was tousled dry and stuck up in odd places. His eyes were dark with quiet concern. He wasn't amazingly attractive, but there was an endearing quality about his face; it seemed incredibly open and honest that night. All the contemptuous edge he displayed at work had dissolved into soft compassion. Cameron was surprised that a person could change so much from one place to another.

"Why are you so different now?" she suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?" Chase knew exactly what she meant.

Cameron shook her head slowly. "I don't know."

She titled her head and tried to pinpoint exactly what made him seem so much more… inviting. Cameron straightened the collar of his shirt and rubbed the material smooth against his chest. She smoothed his hair back down into a somewhat manageable style. Chase gazed into her pale green eyes, wishing he could read her thoughts. What was it about him that had changed so much in one night?

In him, she saw a brand new opportunity to feel. She had always put her emotions first in situations, always asking how a decision would make her feel afterward. Now, she wanted to scrap all that sentimental crap. It had been too long since she had had sex for sex. And somehow Cameron knew that that was  
exactly what she needed that night. The answer to plain old physical need was sitting next to her. She brought her hands from the top of his head to the sides of his face. She leaned forward and pressed her lips roughly against Chase's, her eyes still staring into his. Chase hesitated, his hands on her hips, ready to pull her toward him or push her away. She was upset and vulnerable. Would she regret whatever happened between them that night? Would he be able to handle it if she did? Chase grimaced.

He pulled back and took her hands into his own. He kissed her gently on the forehead, resting his lips on her soft skin.

"Allison…"

Part of her was glad that he had pulled back.

She sighed. "Wow. Today has been…"

"Intense?"

"In a word? Yes."

Chase brought his arms around her body and stroked her soft hair. Her body ached with exhaustion and all rational thought had abandoned her. She needed something stable to cling to - something to steady her. Cameron smiled weakly and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her ear on his chest. There it is, she thought to herself as she fell asleep to its steady rhythm.

* * *

Robert and Allison both awoke to the ring of the telephone. Allison rose from Chase's chest and grabbed the cordless from the coffee table. She cleared her throat. 

"H-hello?"

Chase rose to a sitting position and ran his fingers through his hair.

She took Chase's wrist, checking his watch. Seven A.M. She and Chase were exactly an hour late.

"I'll be right in," she said. A pause. "Yes?"

Cameron glanced at Chase. He watched her inquiringly. 

"No. I don't know where he is." Cameron clicked off the phone. She stood and glanced around her apartment, unsure as to what she should do first.

"I – uh – don't think we have time for a shower." She sized him up and laughed. "I don't think I have anything that would fit you anyway."

"Right. I'll make do." Chase's pager beeped. He reached into his back pocket. "Guess who."

Relentless. House wouldn't miss the fact that both her and Chase were late on the same day. Their coming in to work together would only fuel his suspicions.

Cameron couldn't care less at the moment though. She walked to her room, rubbing her eyes.

"I don't think this will get past House," Chase called from the living room.

Cameron walked back into the living room – this time in a low-cut light blue sweater.

"I was just thinking the same thing. There's really nothing we can do about that."

"I know. Maybe it'll work to your benefit."

Cameron tilted her head questioningly. "You mean to make him jealous?"

Chase looked off to side and wet his lips. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Allison, do you even like me?"

Cameron recognized the expression on his face – a thick mixture of a longing for 'yes' and a dread of 'no.' When House had denied liking her, it had been a slap in the face that stung for days – that still smarted whenever she recalled his rejection. And now it was her turn to hold another person's hopes in the cup of her hands.


	7. Chapter 7

"Allison, do you even like me," Chase asked.

Cameron was stunned into silence, attempting to formulate the right response. "You were a good friend last night," she finally whispered. "Thank you."

Chase closed his eyes. He willed away the ache that welled inside of his chest. Had he expected a shower of yes's and soft kisses?

He had been anything but likeable toward Cameron lately, save last night. He pushed her away the one time she had tried to speak to him about his father. It had annoyed him then - her inherent need to fix all that is wrong and hurtful in the world. But last night…

Chase recalled the lines of defeat on stretched across her forehead – the waves of tremors that shook her body. This morning her face held no reminders of the night before; it was smooth and filled with tentative concern... for him. As if last night had not happen. Selfless.

"You're welcome," Chase said quietly.

Cameron exhaled steadily. She looked at him in the morning light. After hearing her indirect denial, his demeanor had not changed at all, as if she were simply confirming something that he had already guessed. And yet she sensed a subtle disappointment. There was no basis on which she could feel anything more than a tentative camaraderie toward Chase. They had formed the foundations of a friendship near the beginning of their employment: lunches at the pub with Foreman and even the occasional movie… with Foreman. But their friendship fell through as soon as their jobs were in jeopardy. It wasn't until she became frustrated with her relationship with House that Cameron paid attention to her coworker once again - this time as an escape route. Except that was all he had meant to her.

Now, Cameron was not past trying to become friends with Chase, but she was far from liking him.

Eventually, Chase lifted his eyes to Cameron's. "What do you like about House?" he asked.

Cameron smiled sadly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She sat on the edge of the couch next to Chase. She had asked herself the same question almost everyday. There were times when she entertained the thought that he might simply be a pity case; someone to love precisely because he didn't want to be loved. Cameron didn't entertain these thoughts for long. There was more to her attraction to House than the need to care for the wounded – something that she couldn't possibly explain to Chase at the moment, or even herself.

"Tell you what," Cameron said. "When I figure it all out, I'll make sure to let you know."

They sat together in silence for a few moments. The daze was broken by the sudden and persistent beeping of Chase's pager. Chase glanced at the screen of his pager: "You're a disgrace to your country." Cameron and Chase looked at each. Their laughter echoed througought the apartment.

* * *

"You can't lie about your diagnosis in your report! What if he goes to another hospital and they discover suspiciously high levels of an antibiotic that doesn't even treat your reported underlying cause?" 

"Then you'll have something to feed your pet lawyers," House replied, limping down the hall away from the clinic. Cuddy quickened her pace and rounded on him, blocking his path. Her blue eyes fastened relentlessly on his.

Cuddy: his guardian angel of sorts. She was his side-kick in crime or - more accurately - his maid. Every mess House managed to create, Cuddy never failed to show up – lapdog lawyers at hand – with all the necessary paperwork to cover House's ass. She had known when she hired Dr. Gregory House that he came with legal liability. But then again, Cuddy never deceived herself into believing that hiring House was solely a professional move; it was ultimately an act of guilt; a guilt that bought her a lifetime responsibility for whatever tricks House decided to pull. Nevertheless, the board was unlikely to accept a sense culpability as an excuse for letting him run wild in the hospital.

"One day you're going to lose me my job," she said grimly. _And who will protect you then? _She shook her head and walked past him toward the elevators.

House stood still, gravely tugging the side of his mouth to one side and thoughtfully looking at the ceiling. A part of him did appreciate her ability to keep the board of his back – a part that would never express said gratitude.

A few moments passed before he realized that there was someone directly in front of him. He brought his gaze downward to find Chase looking at him curiously.

Chase held up his manila folder. "I've figured mine out."

House regarded the folder a few seconds before he took it and brought it down to his side."Goody."

"Aren't you going to test me?"

House smirked and limped past Chase. "Doesn't matter; you weren't the first to figure it out," he called over his shoulder.

Chase's brows knit. It had to be Cameron. Foreman's case was nearly impossible – probably specially created by House. It would be an achievement to finish it at all.

With the thought of Cameron came the urge to ask House exactly what he had done to upset her so much. Chase had decided to not push the issue the night before or that morning. But now he was determined to get an answer from the cause himself.

Chase followed his superior into the office, in search of answers.

* * *

Notes: I've clawed my way out of an unexpected hiatus. The other ending to the last chapter will be posted soon; it's slightly graphic and a bit darker than this one. 

You reviews and suggestions are lovely (and very helpful)! Keep 'em coming.


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